


the gift of love

by mercibeaucul



Series: dorks in love [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Come Eating, Fluff and Smut, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, Foot Massage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Rimming, Service Sub Victor Nikiforov, Service Submission, Teasing, Top Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov's Foot Fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 11:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13340097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercibeaucul/pseuds/mercibeaucul
Summary: Victor has been stressed out, so Yuuri decides to distract him by finally giving him something he never realized he needed.(It's Yuuri's feet.)





	the gift of love

It all starts on a Sunday. Yuuri has just emerged from the shower, and Victor is in the kitchen staring openly at him, mouth slack. Yuuri simply pretends not to notice and sits on the couch with his 3DS. He resumes his game, but not before propping his right foot up on the coffee table to show off a little for Victor. He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans that fit his ass well, and he knows Victor loves to see him wearing them. But that isn’t what has Victor so charmed now. The pants have been rolled up at the cuffs, showing off his ankles. Yuuri smirks to himself as he levels up in his game.

 

* * *

 

Victor can’t pinpoint exactly what it is that has him so enthralled with his fiancé. He’s _always_ enthralled with Yuuri, but it seems like there’s something particularly enticing about him today. He’s wearing those jeans, the ones that show off his perfect ass. But he wore those last week too, and he doesn’t remember getting _quite_ this excited about it. Victor stares harder. His hair is damp and tousled from the shower. That’s always very sexy, but not unusual—he sees Yuuri like this almost daily, whether it’s from a shower or he’s sweaty from either skating or fucking Victor hard against the wall. Victor bites his lip at the thought. _Focus,_ Victor.

He looks at Yuuri’s shirt. Or rather, Victor’s shirt. Yes, he definitely likes that too. It’s always very cute to see his hands poking out of the too-long sleeves, and there’s something very pleasantly domestic about him wearing Victor’s clothes that warms his heart. There’s also something intimately _erotic_ about it, especially if it’s something the other has been wearing. It also reminds him of the obscene thoughts he has about Yuuri when he wears his old costume for his _Eros_ program. He remembers the way Yuuri had pulled hard on his tie while the whole of Russia was watching and demanded he never take his eyes off him. It had sent a thrill deep into his bones, and the memory of it does the same now.

Victor shakes his head—he doesn’t want to get lost in memories of Yuuri, not when the real thing is right in front of him. He squints harder.

Oh. _Oh._ He’s got the cuffs rolled up. _Why is that so attractive_? God, he loves this man so much. _Why is literally everything he does so amazing?_ He takes in the sight, appreciating the little knobby bone on the outside of his ankle, the delicate skin, the coarse hair, the curve of his socked foot—he decides that he loves this new fashion choice.

“Victor?”

“Hmm?” Victor answers absent-mindedly, eyes still lingering on Yuuri’s ankle.

Yuuri stands and walks into the kitchen. He walks up to Victor and touches his forehead gently, as if checking for a fever. Victor thinks he is probably burning up. “Are you alright? You’re kind of spacing out, and you’re a bit warm.”

Victor shakes his head, smiling. “I’m fine, love. Just distracted by your beauty.” He takes Yuuri’s hand and kisses his ring.

Yuuri smiles back and leans in to kiss Victor on the lips. “Is that so?” he murmurs. The kiss quickly grows heated, and Yuuri’s cuffed pants don’t stay on for much longer.

 

* * *

Over the week, Yuuri makes a point of showing off his feet and ankles. It’s unusually warm for February, so he continues wearing his pants rolled up at the cuffs when they’re out—just enough to keep warm while still catching Victor’s eye. He wears cute socks with dogs or snowflakes on them, and then at the end of the day, he takes them off slowly in front of Victor, massaging his toes and arches with a sigh. It always ends with Victor pulling his feet into his lap and taking over, rubbing lotion into his skin with a look of earnest concentration.

 _I love him so much_ , Yuuri thinks to himself before saying it out loud.

 

* * *

On Friday, Yuuri sits down on the locker room bench with a heavy sigh. They’re here outside their usual practice hours because Victor wanted to spend some solo time on the ice with Yuuri. He appreciates the extra time, but Victor has been unusually impatient with him all week, and today has been no different. Yuuri is frustrated with him, but he can see how stressed Victor has been lately. He lets his anger subside and decides to try distracting Victor instead.

“Mm, Victor?” he starts, “I’m a bit sore. Would you help me with my skates?”

A flush of pink spreads across Victor’s cheekbones. “Of course, Yurochka,” he murmurs and kneels to untie his skates. Years of doing quads have made kneeling a bit of a chore, but it’s one he’ll happily do for Yuuri. The slight ache reminds him of the satisfaction he gets from a good day of training. He sets to work on the laces of the first skate, and then slides Yuuri’s foot out. He runs his thumbs down the arch and stretches Yuuri’s toes out. Then, he repeats the process with his other foot.

“Hm. Thank you, _Vitenka._ ” He smiles as Victor’s breath catches. Victor is looking down, but Yuuri can tell he’s blushing by the slight tinge of pink on the back of his neck and the redness of his ears. He reaches up and runs a hand through his hair. “You’re so good to me.”

Victor hums happily and turns his head to kiss Yuuri’s palm. “You deserve it, Yurochka.”

 

* * *

On Saturday, Yuuri is waiting patiently for Victor to meet him after his meeting with his manager. He’s sitting in a quiet corner of the restaurant, sipping on a glass of white wine. Before he left the rink, he showered and dressed in what had easily become Victor’s favourite jeans to see Yuuri in, along with Victor’s white and blue striped sweater. The pants have been rolled up at the cuff again, and on his feet, he’s wearing a pair of black and white Adidas sneakers. Overall, his outfit isn’t out of the ordinary, but each article of clothing has been chosen very deliberately—and there’s a new addition which he is certain will drive Victor crazy. He’s paired his sneakers with new black fishnet ankle socks, on the back of which are large black bows. He crosses his legs, letting one of his feet dangle tantalizingly.

Behind him, Yuuri hears footsteps fall and then stop suddenly. He smiles knowingly and turns around. “Hi, Vitenka. I ordered for you, I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course,” he says hoarsely. Victor clears his throat and sits down in the chair across from Yuuri. He’s ordered wine, and Victor is grateful for it. It’s been a long morning, and Yuuri’s appearance is not doing anything to slow his blood pressure.

He takes Yuuri’s hand and kisses his ring. “You look lovely,” he tells him, and Yuuri blushes.

During their lunch, he asks Victor about his meeting. He’s trying to focus on answering, but Yuuri is very distracting. His eyes keep moving to the pretty black bows on his ankles. _When did he get those?_

“Vitya,” Yuuri’s voice drops suddenly. “What are you thinking about? You seem distracted.”

 _Of course_ he’s distracted. _Yuuri_ is right in front of him, and he’s wearing Victor’s sweater, and _those_ jeans with the cuffs rolled up, and those new socks.

Yuuri smirks. “I bet I know what’s the matter.”

“Y-you do?” Victor stammers.

“Mm. You must be tired.” Victor frowns. _No, no that’s not it at all_. Yuuri continues, “You’ve had a busy morning. You could use a nap.” Victor lets out a quiet gasp as he feels Yuuri’s foot sliding up his calf. “We should probably get you to bed, _da_?”

Victor lets out a shaky breath as Yuuri’s foot makes his way up his leg and presses into his groin. He covers his mouth with his hand to supress a moan. Victor nods frantically. “Yes, yes, we should go. To bed.” He’s blushing furiously.

“Hm.” Yuuri swallows the rest of his wine and then licks his lips. “I think we’ll take a cab home.” He presses his foot down harder, and Victor’s shoulders slump forward. “You don’t look so well, _Vitenka_.”

Victor’s sure he will die, because his blood seems to be moving either toward his rapidly heating cheeks or his cock; he’s sure none of it is making it to his heart, anyway. “Yu- _Yuuri_ ,” he gasps.

The waitress returns, and Victor is glad the tablecloth is long enough that she can’t tell where Yuuri’s foot is resting. “Is everything alright?” she asks, concern showing on her face. Victor can only imagine how he looks for her to be asking.

Yuuri nods. “Everything is fine, thank you. Can we please get the bill?” He answers in accented but well-practiced Russian. He’s improving every day, and Victor loves the way it sounds, loves the way his tongue curls over each word. Yuuri drags the top of his foot back down Victor’s leg. Victor momentarily hopes there isn’t a dusty footprint in the crotch of his navy trousers, but then his cock twitches at the thought of everyone seeing it and knowing exactly where Yuuri’s foot has been.

When the waitress returns, Yuuri slowly counts out the amount of cash needed to cover the bill, along with a generous tip. Victor knows he’s giving him time for his erection to go down, and he’s glad for it. Yuuri stands and offers his hand to Victor. “Ready, Vitenka?”

He lets out a shaky breath as he takes his hand and stands. “Yes.”

 

* * *

 

 They aren’t very far from their apartment, so the cab ride is short—but it feels like an eternity to Victor. His heart thumps hard in his chest and soon his hand is wandering up Yuuri’s arm, stroking the back of his neck, carding through his hair. Yuuri grasps his hand and moves it down to his lap, holding it firmly in place. Victor squeezes tightly, and Yuuri’s thumb strokes his knuckles soothingly.

The moment they get in the door, Victor’s got Yuuri pressed up against the wall. Yuuri indulges him, lets Victor kiss him desperately. “Vitenka,” Yuuri says coolly as Victor’s lips slide down his neck. “This isn’t sleeping. I thought you needed a nap.”

Victor nips at the skin below Yuuri’s ear—a spot that drives him crazy. Yuuri keeps his calm demeanour, but Victor can feel him tense under his hands. “Suddenly I’m not so tired,” he murmurs and traces his tongue around the shell of Yuuri’s ear.

“Hmm.” Yuuri places a hand on Victor’s cheek and pulls his face towards him, looking him in the eye. Victor loves Yuuri’s eyes. He could get lost in them—but there’s so much more he wants to do right now. “What do you need, then?”

Victor stops suddenly, caught off guard at the earnest tone of his question. What does he _need_? Victor doesn’t _need_ anything, not when Yuuri is standing right here. Victor _wants._ He wants a lot of things right now. He simultaneously wants Yuuri’s feet adorned with those black bows and wants to rip the socks off so that he can lavish his feet with his mouth. He wants Yuuri to fuck him. He wants Yuuri’s foot on his cock again. He wants whatever Yuuri will allow him to have, whatever he will allow him to _give_.

“You’ve been worried lately,” Yuuri says gently. Victor shakes his head in protest, and Yuuri clicks his tongue. “Don’t lie to me, Vitenka.” His voice is low and commanding, a tone that goes straight to Victor’s throbbing erection. “I know you.”

Victor bows his head in shame, shoulders slumping. Yuuri is right. Victor’s been very worried. Worried about Worlds, worried about his skating, about being good enough, about catching up on all the lost hours of training, about his suddenly too-full schedule of interviews and sponsorship meetings and obligations, about whether all of this will interfere with _Yuuri’s_ training. He only wants the best for Yuuri, and he’s afraid he won’t be able to give him that.

Yuuri draws his head back towards him so that he’s looking him in the eyes again. There’s so much tenderness in Yuuri’s eyes. It’s almost too much for Victor; he feels raw and exposed. “My Vitenka,” he says softly. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to decide anything. I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you what you need.” Victor’s breath hitches. He likes it when Yuuri takes control like this. Yuuri knows what pressure is like, how overwhelming it can be, and how tempting it can be to carry it all alone. And he knows that Victor will sometimes take on so much that he forgets to breathe. Yuuri taking charge takes some of that weight off.

“Vitenka, will you help me with these?” He nods towards his feet.

“Yes, yes. Anything, _solnyshko_.” Victor kneels before Yuuri, who places his left shoe on his thigh. Victor begins to slowly untie the laces. He gently slides the shoe off, and then lightly runs his fingers across the netting of his sock, admiring the way it looks against his skin. He lifts Yuuri’s foot, places a kiss to the bottom, and sets it gently on the floor. Then, he repeats the same with the right foot. Victor wants to touch and explore him more, wants to do all kinds of things with Yuuri right now, but instead he waits patiently for Yuuri’s gentle command, and a sense of intense calm thrums through his body.

Yuuri’s hand settles in Victor’s hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. Victor shivers at the touch. “Stand up, Vitya.” Victor stands obediently. Yuuri kisses him slowly, tongue teasing against Victor’s briefly before pulling away. “Go wait for me in the bedroom. Clothes off, on your knees.” Victor’s pulse quickens. “Put a pillow down first.” He nods eagerly and starts making his way to the bedroom. “Oh, Vitenka?” Victor stops. “Be good. No touching yourself.” Victor shudders.

“I promise, Yuuri.”

Victor waits on his knees at the foot of the bed, listening to Yuuri move around the apartment. The room is a bit cool, but his body is warm from arousal. He isn’t sure how long he waits, but he knows it probably feels longer than it is. It doesn’t matter; he would wait forever for Yuuri.

“Vitenka,” Yuuri says from the doorway. He’s holding Makkachin’s leash. “I’m going to take Makkachin out. Will you be alright?”

Victor lets out a small whine. Yuuri approaches and runs his fingers through Victor’s hair. He sighs at the contact. “I won’t be gone long, Vitenka. She needs to go out. If your knees are sore, you can wait on the bed.”

He shakes his head no. He wants to be good for Yuuri, and his knees are fine. “I’ll wait here. I can wait.”

Yuuri cups his chin and looks him in the eyes. “ _Vitya_ ,” he says firmly, “If your knees start to hurt, sit on the bed.” Victor nods obediently. “Good. I won’t be long. Remember, don’t touch yourself.” He pauses for a moment. “I’ll let you know if or when you can come.” That sends a thrill down Victor’s spine—even the thought that Yuuri might deny him entirely leaves him with a strange satisfaction.

“I’ll be good _solnyshko_ , so good.” Yuuri releases his chin.

“Good, Vitenka. I’ll be back soon.”

Yuuri isn’t gone that long. Victor knows that. He knows he wouldn’t be gone any longer than necessary. But it _feels_ like a long time. Even so, he wants nothing more than to please Yuuri, so he waits patiently, and soon he hears the apartment door open. Victor’s heartrate picks up again as Yuuri’s footsteps get closer, and he shudders when Yuuri enters the bedroom.

“Vitenka,” he says. “Such a good boy. You waited so patiently.” Victor’s skin tingles at the praise. Yuuri shuts the bedroom door behind him and takes off his glasses. He moves to sit on the foot of the bed, Victor’s gaze following him all the while. “Turn around,” Yuuri says gently.

Victor positions himself so that he’s facing Yuuri. He realizes that he’s shaking. “Yuuri,” he begs. “Yuuri, please.”

“Please what, Vitenka? What do you need?”

This time he doesn’t hesitate to answer. He needs to touch Yuuri, and he thinks he might die if he doesn’t. “I need you. To touch you. Please.”

Yuuri leans down and kisses him. “Of course.”

Victor raises his shaky hands and touches Yuuri’s cheeks, his hair, his chest. He tugs at Yuuri’s shirt, and pulls it off when he lifts his arms for him. Victor’s fingers trail down Yuuri’s toned stomach and find his zipper. He looks up at him, asking for permission. Yuuri nods, so he undoes his fly, slides his hands under Yuuri’s waistband, and tries to pull his jeans down his hips.

Yuuri chuckles softly. “You want them off?” he asks. Victor nods. “Well, I suppose. You have been good.” He lifts his hips so that Victor can tug the well-fitting jeans down along with his underwear. Victor lets out an approving noise, content to see more of his beautiful body, to be able to touch his skin. He can’t resist running his hands up and down Yuuri’s muscular thighs. He leans down and noses at Yuuri’s growing erection, drinking in his scent. Yuuri lets out a soft gasp at the sensation. He gives Victor’s hair a sharp tug, pulling him upwards. “I want your mouth.” It’s not a request. Victor shivers and bows his head, giving a reverent kiss to the tip of Yuuri’s cock. He laves at the head, relishing in the taste. “Suck it, Vitya.”

Victor moans at the command, and then sinks his lips down his cock. Yuuri’s breath is coming in sharp breathy gasps, and Victor hums happily around him. Victor sometimes thinks he could live like this, content just to have Yuuri in his mouth. He’s reveling in the sounds he’s making, the salty, bitter taste of him, his deep musky scent, when suddenly, Victor feels a jolt of pleasure in his groin. He pulls off, moaning. “Y-yuurrrriii. Oh my god.” Yuuri’s foot, still in its pretty little black sock and ribbon, is pressed against his cock.

Yuuri presses harder, eliciting a choking gasp from Victor. “Did I say stop, Vitenka?” Victor shakes his head no and sinks his mouth back down onto him, sucking enthusiastically, trying his best to focus while Yuuri’s foot is pressed against his cock. Yuuri moves his foot lower, pressing lightly against his balls. He moans loudly around Yuuri, squeezing his thighs hard enough to bruise, and Yuuri groans. “Fuck, Vitenka. Oh my god, you feel so good. I’m going to come.” Victor pulls off just in time to watch Yuuri’s face twist with pleasure, Victor’s name on his lips, sweat over his brow. Just in time for Yuuri to come all over his face. All the while, Yuuri’s foot is still pressed firmly against him. Victor is shaking and gasping out little moans. He’s so close, but he won’t come yet. Yuuri hasn’t said he could come.

He looks down at Victor, face flushed from his orgasm. “You’re so beautiful, my Vitya. So good for me.” He swipes his thumb through his spend and slips it into Victor’s mouth. He sucks at it eagerly. Yuuri removes his foot and stands, and Victor whines at the loss of contact. “It’s alright,” he says. “I’ll be right back.

Yuuri returns with a cool, damp cloth and gently wipes his come from Victor’s face before tossing it aside. He runs a hand through Victor’s hair, and he almost purrs at the touch. “Sit back against the bed,” he instructs. Victor winces a bit as he adjusts. He’s leaning against the bed, legs stretched out in front of him, and Yuuri is frowning. “Vitya, what did I tell you about your knees?”

Victor blushes, touching his hand to his lips. “I’m sorry, _solnyshko._ I hadn’t noticed.” It’s not a lie. He was enjoying himself far too much to have noticed.

Yuuri hums thoughtfully. “I believe you.” Victor sighs with relief. He doesn’t want to disappoint Yuuri. “You’re so good to me, Vitenka. I want to make you feel good too.” He slowly runs his foot up Victor’s shin and then along his inner thigh. He lets out a shaky moan, and Yuuri laughs. “You like my feet.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Victor breathes out. “So much.”

“You haven’t been subtle.” Victor can’t help but let out a breathy laugh at that. The truth is, Victor hadn’t even realized how much he liked Yuuri’s feet until today. He thinks it’s only natural, though. Yuuri’s feet carry him across the ice, carving beautiful lines into the surface. And they’ve been part of an intimate ritual of care that they have shared even before they really got together. Skating is hard on Yuuri’s feet, and so Victor has always tended to them, cleaning and bandaging blisters, wrapping them in tape, massaging the sore tendons.

It’s funny that he hasn’t realized it before, but he can’t help but agree with Yuuri. “No, I suppose I haven’t been subtle. Then again, you haven’t been either. Not lately. Teasing me with those pretty ankles of yours. And those s- _socks_ ,” Victor keens with pleasure as Yuuri presses heavily on his cock. He can’t help it. Yuuri is _stepping_ on him. _Yuuri should step on me always_ , he thinks.

“Hm. Do you want to come, Vitenka?” he asks.

“Yes, Yuuri. Yes, please. I want to come.”

His fingers trace Victor’s jaw. He presses a bit harder, and Victor chokes out a gasp. “But do you _need_ to come?” He cocks his head. “I’m not sure that’s what you need. You still look tired. Maybe you should still have that nap.”

Something in him snaps. The thought of Yuuri leaving him so tightly wound fills him with panic. Victor would gladly take all that he’s been given so far, would never resent Yuuri for it. But in the moment, he’s overcome with a primal need, something so overwhelming that tears brim in his eyes and threaten to fall. “Please let me come, Yuuri. I need it, _solnyshko_ , I do,” he pleads.

“So pretty when you beg,” he whispers. “You can come, Vitenka. You can use my feet.”

Victor whimpers at that. “Oh, _Yuuri._ ”

Yuuri removes his foot. “Come sit up on the bed, Vitya.” He props up a pillow against the headboard so Victor can sit comfortably against it. He grabs the lube from the nightstand and then sits on the bed so that he’s facing Victor, stretching out his legs and placing his feet in his lap. Victor is staring at his feet intensely and Yuuri tosses the lube at him. “Go ahead and unwrap your gift, Vitya.”

He works slowly but eagerly. He kisses the sole of Yuuri’s right foot, covering every inch with his lips. Something about the reverent look on his face tugs at Yuuri’s heart. Victor kisses his ankle and nibbles at the skin above the bow. He peels the delicate sock off, setting it down gently on the nightstand next to him. Victor kisses the bottom of each toe, and then rubs his cheek against Yuuri’s foot. He kisses it once more and repeats the process with the left foot. Yuuri is watching him with fascination, surprised at how arousing he finds this. “ _Yurochka_ ,” Victor says softly. He picks up the lube and stares at it as if considering something.

“Vitenka?” Victor leans over and starts digging for something in the nightstand. He pulls out the small tin that contains one of his favourite things—an edible massage bar from Lush. He and Yuuri have enjoyed plenty of full-body massages together with the mango flavoured bar, but that’s not quite what Victor has in mind today.

Victor lifts one of Yuuri’s feet and kisses it again. “Such a beautiful gift deserves only the best in return.” Victor rubs the bar over his feet, eventually switching to his hands to work the lotion into his skin. He massages all the tender areas of Yuuri’s feet, pressing his knuckles into the arches and his heels. When he’s finished, Victor kisses each toe again, licking in between them. Yuuri instinctually jerks his foot away, but Victor holds firmly and runs his tongue over the bottom. Yuuri didn’t expect to find this so erotic, and yet his cock is half hard already.

Victor picks up the lube and looks at Yuuri, asking for permission. “Vitenka,” he says softly. “Go ahead. You earned it.” Blushing at the praise, he pours out the lube and slicks himself up, letting out a small moan at the contact. He presses Yuuri’s feet around his aching cock and starts thrusting. It’s better than he imagined. Yuuri’s feet are warm and slick and its not long before he’s chasing his orgasm. He feels electric, thinks it’s a privilege to be able to have Yuuri this way. It’s a privilege to have Yuuri at all, to be near him, to be touching him, to be able to worship him. Yuuri always knows just what he needs, even before Victor does. He always takes such good care of him.

Victor comes hard, his hot release splashing against over Yuuri’s feet and over his own belly. He’s panting hard, hair sticking to his face, and Yuuri thinks he’s fucking beautiful. Yuuri moans. “ _Vitenka._ Fuck.” Victor is licking his feet clean, lapping up every bit of his own spend.  

“ _Vkusno._ Tastes like mangoes,” he chuckles softly.

Yuuri groans. “You’re going to kill me, Victor.”

Victor is incredulous. “Me? Do you have any idea what you just did to me, Yuuri? What you do to me always?”

Yuuri smirks. “I have an idea, yes.” Yuuri moves up to kiss him, tasting Victor and mangoes on his tongue. Victor’s right. It is _vkusno._ Their kissing becomes heated and dirty, leaving them breathless and moaning. “Oh, Vitya. Fuck. Can I—please.” He slips a finger between Victor’s cheeks.

Victor chuckles. “What happened to my bossy Yuuri?”

Yuuri’s cheeks burn at that. He bites down hard on the side of his neck. Victor yelps in surprise, and then moans as Yuuri soothes it with his tongue. He keeps sucking and nipping at his neck as he reaches for the lube. Yuuri pulls away to coat his fingers, and Victor chases him with his mouth, latching onto a nipple. “Vitya,” he gasps.

“Will you still give me what I need, Yuuri?” he murmurs into his chest.

“Always,” Yuuri kisses his hair tenderly. 

Victor never doubted it. “You take such good care of me, Yuuri. You’re so _smart_. You know what I need even when I don’t.” He kisses Yuuri’s palm. “Even when I don’t deserve it.”

Victor knows he’s been on edge lately. He’s been impatient with him, and he doesn’t think he deserves this kind of attention. And yet, Yuuri has been so understanding all the while, not pushing him, being patient and kind where Victor’s been short-tempered and blunt, teasing him with those rolled-up pants, wearing cute socks with bows on them.

“You deserve it, Victor. You deserve so much,” he says tenderly. He pushes him on his back and presses his fingers inside him. Victor gasps loudly and tugs at Yuuri’s hair.

All those months ago, Yuuri had told him that he just wanted him to be Victor. But sometimes it’s still difficult. He’s so well-practiced at playing a persona, at being whoever or whatever everyone else wants him to be, and sometimes he forgets how to let that mask drop. So here Yuuri is, stripping him bare with his hands, his mouth, his teeth. Yuuri is pumping his fingers into him, curling them just right, and Victor is shaking in his arms. “Oh, Yuuri, my Yuuri,” he moans. “I’m so close.” He stops, and Victor nearly wails in frustration. “Yuuri, please,” he begs.

Yuuri growls. “I said I would give you what you need, Vitenka.” Victor gasps with delight when he’s flipped over and roughly pulled up on his knees. Yuuri parts his cheeks and teases at his hole with his tongue, just barely swiping at it once before biting hard into one of his cheeks.

Victor cries out. “Oh, fuck, yes Yuuri. Oh my god.” Yuuri starts licking into him, and Victor’s arms give out underneath him so that his face is pressed into the mattress. When he slides his fingers in alongside his tongue, Victor’s gasps turn into moans.

“Tell me when you’re close, Vitya.” Victor sobs at that, and Yuuri almost feels bad, but he knows that he loves it, knows that this really is what he needs right now: to have Yuuri ease the pressure by taking control. And he does it so _well._ Yuuri wrenches the tension from him, strips him raw and bare, and fills him with a different kind of tension—one that leaves him wanting so badly he begs for more of it.

“Yuuri, please Yuuri,” he cries.

“Not yet.” He withdraws his fingers and kisses both cheeks, kisses his way up his spine, nuzzles into Victor’s neck. “So good for me, Vitenka.” When he turns to Yuuri, his face is streaked with tears. Yuuri licks the salt away. “Turn over for me.” Victor tries, but his whole body feels too heavy and shaky, so Yuuri flips him back over. He kisses his face all over, and Victor shivers at the touch. He makes his way down, nipping and sucking at Victor’s chest, biting at his nipples, leaving marks that will linger for days. Victor is panting and trembling as he licks down his abs, fingernails trailing along his ribs. He lets out a sharp gasp as Yuuri takes him into his mouth, swallowing him down to the hilt. “Oh my god,” Victor moans.

Yuuri pulls off. “Vitya, don’t come until I say.” That alone is almost too much, almost makes him come right then. He thinks Yuuri could do that, could make him come with the right words, the right look. Victor grips one hand in the sheets and the other in Yuuri’s hair, trying to ground himself. He’s saying his name like a mantra, “Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri”. He’s desperate to come, but more than anything, he wants to please Yuuri. “Yuuri, I’m—I’m so close”. He pulls off his cock again with a wet pop, and Victor wails in frustration. Yuuri just smiles up at him and licks his lips. “Hmm. You’ve been so good, Vitenka.”

“Please, Yuuri. Please let me come again,” he begs.

Yuuri sits up and grabs the bottle of lube. “I think what you really need is this,” he says as he slicks up his cock. Victor nods frantically. Yes, he thinks. He desperately needs Yuuri to fill him up, to feel him moving inside him, to be fucked into oblivion. Yuuri throws his legs over his shoulders and pushes into him. Victor lets out a low moan against his neck. “You feel so good, Vitenka.” He’s trying to keep his composure, but his voice wavers.

Yuuri fucks him hard and slow, stopping once more before he lets him come. He thinks he would like to do this for hours, turning him into a sobbing shaking mess, filling him to the brim with bliss but never letting him reach release. Yuuri’s stamina is excellent, but it’s not _that_ good. It’s too much, watching Victor fall apart at the seams like this.

“Y-Yuuri,” Victor chokes out.

“Go ahead, Vitenka. Come for me.” And he does, and it feels like it will never end, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through him, hot come coating his stomach, splashing onto his chin. He scratches his nails hard down Yuuri’s back, head thrown back in ecstasy.

Yuuri’s thrusts become more frantic as he seeks his own release. Victor is sensitive from having just come, and winces at the sensation. “Please don’t stop,” he moans, even as his legs spasm from the shock of overstimulation.

“Oh god, you’re so beautiful, so fucking perfect, I love you so much, Vitya, _Vitenka_ — _fuck_.”

Victor lets out a pleased gasp when Yuuri comes, loving the feel of his hot release pulsing into him. Suddenly, his body feels boneless, blissful exhaustion settling in. “Yurochka,” he murmurs. “Thank you.”

Yuuri covers Victor in soft, tender kisses. He strokes his hair, holds him close, and tells him how much he loves him. Eventually, Victor drifts off, barely waking when Yuuri gently wipes his sticky skin with a warm cloth. Yuuri feels a deep satisfaction at seeing Victor looking so blissed out and peaceful. He adores him so much. Victor is always taking care of Yuuri—often without even realizing how much of himself he’s giving. He’s glad he can give this to him.

He lets Makkachin into the room, and she curls up behind Victor’s bent knees. The sight fills him with such an overwhelming feeling of affection that he can’t help himself from taking a photo before crawling back into the bed to wrap himself around Victor. He knows that they’ll need to talk about things, about how Victor is stretching himself too thin, about finding some compromise that Victor won’t easily make. He’s aware that it won’t be simple, but everything is worth it for Victor, for the life they’re building together. And for now, he’s content to let himself be pulled under the heavy tow of sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my crew for some of the ideas that spawned this fic, like the fact that Victor is definitely a Lush gay. Special thanks to anandrine, who found the sock/shoe combo, which you can see [here](https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1wIbrQFXXXXaCXVXXq6xXFXXXp/Fashion-Women-Ladies-Ruffle-Fishnet-Ankle-Socks-Bow-New-Mesh-Lace-Fish-Net-Short-Socks-Women.jpg_640x640.jpg). She also gave me the idea that Victor doesn't necessarily realize that he's in love with Yuuri's feet--but Yuuri notices, so he's like "you dork, here you go".


End file.
